Can I Keep Him?
by thepianoplayr
Summary: Little Sherlock is lonely and in search of a playmate. Kid!Lock AU, based on Steven Kellogg's "Can I Keep Him?".


**So about a month ago I was practically having a nervous breakdown over having to wait a year for the next Hobbit movie and the fact that (SPOILER ALERT) Fili and Kili are going to die in it. So there I was, looking at fan art, watching fanvids; the usual withdrawal symptoms. **

**So then my sister introduces me to Sherlock. **

**In a nutshell, this fandom has ruined my life. I'm dying. Oh my god guys I just can't. I have a freaking shock blanket and I walk around the house yelling "VATICAN CAMEOS!" and chucking random shit at my sister. What's worse is I thought a year was a long time to wait for a movie and SEASON FOUR DOESN'T AIR TILL THE YEAR I GRADUATE! **

***sigh* anyway, felt like writing this because it was the only thing that came out of me that wasn't super depressing. **

**I'm gonna go cry in a corner now. **

**Can I keep him**

"Can I keep him?"

Mrs Holmes sighed, turning away from the dishes she'd been washing.

"What was that, Sherlock?"

Six year old Sherlock Holmes stood in the kitchen doorway, makeshift newspaper pirate hat sitting lopsided on his mop of black curls and a short wooden stick (his pirate sword, of course) clutched in one hand. Judging by the state of his clothes, he'd spent a good part of the afternoon outside.

Now, under normal circumstances Mrs Holmes would have chided him for the grass stains on the knees of his new trousers, or the lack of shoes on his mud covered feet.

But looking past her youngest son, something else caught her eye.

"Sherlock! What on earth is that dog doing in my house?"

Yes, there on the living room carpet, lay a grown Irish setter panting and wagging his tail innocently.

"He followed me home. He doesn't have a collar. Can I keep him?"

"No Sherlock. Dogs bark and howl; we'll never get any sleep! Take him back where you found him."

With exaggerated disappointment, Sherlock walked out of the kitchen and the dog followed.

"And for gods sake, put on some shoes!"

Not ten minutes later, as his mother pulled a load of clean clothes from the dryer, Sherlock appeared behind her holding a yellow tabby kitten.

"I found this kitten all by himself. He can't bark. Can I keep him? "

"No Sherlock. Mycroft is allergic to cats; he'd never be able to come back in the house."

A mischievous smile spread across his face and Mrs Holmes saw the gears Turing in the boy's head.

"Take it back, Sherlock."

"fine."

(Some time later...)

"Mummy, mummy!" Sherlock burst into the house yelling excitedly.

"What is it now, Sherlock? A rabbit? A turtle? A snake perhaps?"

"No, a hawk!"

"Oh, right, a... A hawk!?"

She quickly turned to where Sherlock was standing, half expecting there to be a large predatory bird perched on his arm.

To her immediate relief, there was not.

"I found him by the edge of the forest. He doesn't bark and he doesn't have fur. Can I keep him?"

Withholding a knowing smile, she decided to humour him.

"Hawks have sharp talons. The furniture would be nothing but shreds by the end of the day."

Sherlock placed a finger on his chin thoughtfully. She did make a compelling argument.

Without another word, he set off in search of something else to occupy his time and left his mother in peace.

That is, for about fifteen minutes until he found her in Mycroft's closet hanging his school uniforms.

"A chimpanzee escaped from the zoo and I brought him home with me. He doesn't bark, he has monkey fur, and he doesn't have anything sharp. Can I keep him?"

"Monkeys are terribly messy. They leave banana skins everywhere and never clean up after themselves. The smell would be so bad, no one will ever come to visit."

Sherlock stocked off, muttering something that sounded an awful lot like, "I wish they wouldn't."

Nearly half an hour later, Mrs Holmes was beginning to think her son had finally given up his little game and found a more productive way to pass the time. She wrong, of course.

"What is it this time?" she asked before he even entered the room.

"At the circus one of the Lions hurt his leg and the lion Tamer said he'll be okay, but he can't perform anymore. He doesn't bark, he has lion fur, he doesn't have talons, and he smells good. Can I keep him?"

"Lions eat more food in one day than you do in a week, we could never afford to keep him fed. And if they can't be fed, sometimes lions even eat people."

"Would he eat Mycroft?" Sherlock asked a bit too hopefully.

"Sherlock! Be nice to your bother."

"Well he's not nice to me!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air dramatically.

(Some more time later...)

"So there was this alligator wrangler..."

"Let me guess. You've got an alligator now."

Sherlock took a deep breath and said quickly, "He doesn't bark, he has no fur, he doesn't have talons..."

"Wait a moment, I thought you were a pirate."

Sherlock gave her a confused look. "Yeah, so?"

"Why, didn't you know? Alligators hate pirates," she said as if it was something everyone ought to know.

"Of-of course I knew that!" he said hastily, afraid that if she realized he didn't it might compromise his pirate reputation.

Why hadn't he known? What she said made sense; he recalled that one of Captain Hook's arch enemies had been an alligator. Once again, he went on his way, toting his stick-sword behind him.

It wasn't long before he returned.

"In Scotland I met a scientist who caught the Loch Ness monster. None of the aquariums have a tank big enough for him and..."

"Wait a moment. When were you in Scotland? And where do you intended to keep this monster?"

"I don't know."

Sherlock dropped his head and twisted his fingers together idly.

"Sherlock, if you're lonely you could always ask Mycroft if he wants to play."

"I'm not lonely!" he shot defensively. "and Mycroft never wants to play with me."

There was nothing to disguise the sadness in his voice at that last statement.

"Will you play with me?"

His mother gazed at him sympathetically.

"I wish I could, but I'm busy. Why don't you go ride your bike or play in the sandbox. Dinner will be ready soon."

Disheartened, he walked out of the kitchen practically dragging his feet on the living room carpet.

(Later that evening)

Mrs Holmes was just lifting a pan from the oven when she heard the distinct sound of the front door opening and closing.

She crossed her arms and waited for Sherlock to walk and inform her about an exciting new pet and why he should be allowed to keep it.

However, when he entered she was surprised to see a small, blondheaded boy, probably no older than Sherlock and maybe a bit shorter, being pulled behind him by the hand.

"He doesn't bark, he has hair, he doesn't have talons, he smells like us, he eats people food, he likes to play pirates, his name is John and he says he'll be my friend. Can I keep him?"

She laughed aloud at Sherlock's portrayal of his new friend and John's utterly puzzled expression.

"You can't keep him, but he can be your friend and stay for dinner if it's alright with his mum. Now go and play and _please_, no more pets."

_**Epilogue**_

When the boys came in for dinner, John stood in the kitchen doorway holding a prickly little hedgehog and promptly asked, "Can I keep him?"

**Alright, storytime bitches. **

**Last night me and Abigail are watching the unaired pilot of Sherlock and it gets to the scene where Sherlock texts John and makes him drive all the way back to the flat so he can use his phone. So then Abigail says:**

**"Why didn't he just phone Mrs Hudson?"**

**And I jump out of my seat and yell, "YAIN'T BRITISH!"**

**Yes. Yain't is totally a word here. **

**Translation for those of you not fluent in 'merican: You are not british.**

**We live in the southern United States and she asked why he didn't "phone" someone. **

**Dying. **

**I'm not saying you should review but you should review. **


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